I'm Angie, fifty-eight, five feet ten with natural long curly ginger hair with a white streak. I weigh ten stones 32C-28-38.
It was a lovely warm summer's day and I'd dressed in a pleated cream skirt to halfway up my thighs, pale blue stockings and a navy blue blouse with no bra to work in the charity shop.
A couple of young lads were looking through the racks of women's clothes.
"Can I help?"
They turned red and I realised they were about twenty. They spluttered a few words without saying anything.
"Looking for a dress?"
"Y M Yes."
Their colour eased.
"Who for? One of you?"
"Y M yeah him."
"Have you seen anything you fancy?"
A dress was held in front of the other guy.
"Is this to wear?
"FANCY DRESS." They both blurted out.
"Relax. Fancy dress is no deal, what look are you after. Start with your names."
"The Simpson's. I'm Jack, Ben." Jack pointed to Ben.
"Marjorie wears strapless, like this sort of thing." I held up a pink summer dress. "Wrong colour though."
"See. That's what I said."
"There's a pile of stuff out back, come on let's have a quick look."
The three feet high pile of unsorted dresses was on a blanket and I bent to pull items out. The yellow dress was far too small, a white dress was huge with massive moulded cups and they laughed.
"Grosse."
"Wouldn't want to get in a fight with that."
I smiled at their banter.